Radio
by Kody Wright
Summary: In a wheelchair and homeless, Mitchell befriends a homeless woman who has an uncanny ability. Fearing for her life, he has 6 weeks to walk again. Based in season 8. AU. Rated T for content.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

**Homeless Park, Colorado Springs**

"Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop." The words spewed across her lips as she covered her ears. The noise, the hideous sound that drove her insane. It wasn't like most sounds she would hear. Click, click, click with a pause of grinding rumbles echoed through her mid. Four more clicks each spaced with a grinding sound and then followed by a swish and a buzz.

The buzz itself could last up to twenty minutes, non stop, and the clicking accompanied with the grinding rumble would go intermittently twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. The sequence of noise was enough to drive anybody insane.

Insanity. What is insanity? Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result? Hearing voices in your mind. Hallucinations! The homeless veteran had it all. Before moving to Colorado Springs the clicking sound was minimal. But as made her way west it grew more and more with each passing mile. Finally ending up at the epicenter of Colorado Springs.

No job, no benefits from her service the young veteran set up a make shift camp on outskirts of town. It's was pitiful really. Career military personal populated the city. Officers in shiny new cars drove past the encampment every morning and by a slew of other homeless vets standing on the edge of existence each holding a cardboard sign.

One such vet looked over at the crouching woman. His scraggily beard engulfed with dirt. "You okay over there, Radio?"

She popped her head back up as her knees hit the ground. Her black hair chopped short in some haphazard attempt to keep clean. Her hazel eye pierced through the very soul of the man sitting in a wheelchair. She snorted back, "Fine Mitchell."

"Got that clicking thing again?" He held his sign higher. Making sure everyone could read he was crippled. As if the chair wasn't obvious enough.

She shook herself trying to clear the sounds. For it wasn't merely the mysterious clicking and switch sounds but everything came through her mind. With an unusual ability to hear all broadcast from television, satellite and radio, she earned the nickname during her tenure in the Air Force. An ability she hid from higher command.

Fearing she would be turned into some sort of science fair project, she opted not to disclose the interest. But rather be accused of aiding the enemy when word of her unusual knack for knowing what combatants were communicating about. Thus, earning her a dishonorable discharge.

Her disabled friend wished he had met her while he was still in the service and able to walk. For her talent for knowing what was broadcast seemed uncanny. A great intelligence tool gone to waste.

Placing the sign on his lap he wheeled over to her. Brushing back his long hair. "Come on, Radio. Pull it together. You can do it, Soldier."

She glared at him, "Why the hell did you insist we come to Colorado anyways, Mitchell? Ever since I got here the noise has gotten worse. We gotta leave."

Shaking his head he looked upon her. "No, Radio. This is where we need to be if you are ever gonna find an answer to the clicking sound."

Defeated she plopped back to the ground. "You honestly think there's something here doing it?"

"Yeah, I do." He assured her. "I know there is."

"How can you be so sure? No one else even believes me when I tell them about it."

His blue eyes danced in the morning sun. "Cause I know there is something here. I didn't lose my ability to walk for nothing."

"You're too kind."

Their eyes locked for a moment. Each with holding back on what they knew. She could see it in his expression. There was more to the tale of how he ended up in a wheelchair. With some hesitation she opted to make some sort of deal. "I'll tell you if you can ever walk again if you tell me what you know about this place."

"Pfft," he spouted. "The docs told me I could walk again if my spine would decompress. Just seems to not work out that way."

"I can tell you what to do to decompress the spine," she offered.

"Tried! Everything failed."

"Haven't tried me."

"You're not a doctor, Radio."

Shyly she admitted, "I know. But sometimes…I can help sick people."

He laughed to himself at the notion of a homeless vet who may be mentally imbalanced helping him after everything else had failed miserably. "Alright, if you can get me to walk again…I will tell you everything I know about Cheyenne Mountain."

She looked off in the distance to the looming peak. "That's where it's coming from?"

Nodding, "Yeah."

"What is in there?"

"Hey, you first."

A sliver convertible came to a stop at the intersection the homeless used for panhandling. Sam Carter at the wheel with Daniel Jackson sitting shotgun. Pushing the prescription sunglasses up his nose he tried to avoid the unpleasant sight. Normally, he would help the less fortunate but after seeing the same men, day in and out, begging continuously over the years he grew tired of their plight.

Sam reached over towards Mitchell. She held a folded bill in her hand. "Cam," she reached towards him.

Daniel muttered, "You know that bum? Not really gonna give him money are you?"

"It's Mitchell. From Antarctica."

His face dropped at the sudden realization. "Oh, I didn't know it was him."

Mitchell wheeled himself closer to the edge of the road. "Thanks, Sam." Taking the twenty dollar bill she gave him. "Could use it."

"I know," she tried to smile. Noticing the new recruit, "Who's your friend?"

"That's Radio. I'm teaching her the ropes."

"She disabled too?"

"She's mentally off."

"PTSD?" Sam winced.

"Loony in the head." Mitchell explained. "Hears voices. And this strange clicking sound. Funny, always seven clicks too."

"Poor thing," Sam took pity upon the girl. "You take care of her, Cam."

"I will," he assured.

"Let me know if you need anything," Sam replied. The light had changed and she needed to move. "See ya around."

As she drove off Mitchell waved from his perch. "See ya around, Sam."

Radio scooted closer to him. "You know her?"

"She's a colonel in the mountain."

"Who's the dude with her?"

"A civilian contractor. Good guy."

"He's cute," she mentioned.

Mitchell miffed, "Nah, I'm cuter."

"Yes, you're adorable." Sarcasm permeated the reply.

**SGC**

Daniel stood beside himself in the elevator next to Sam. His simple request for a ride to work while his car was in the garage turned into a dilemma of guilt. A man who saved his life five years prior was now nothing more than a homeless bum in a wheelchair living off handouts on a street corner.

It wasn't right. It just wasn't right! The man was promised SG-1 upon his recovery. Instead he was living barely on the edge. Taking care of a mentally disabled woman to boot. And barely taking care of himself. How could Lt. Colonel Cameron Mitchell end up in such a situation? It made no sense to him.

Daniel puffed out his cheeks in despair, "How did he end up like that?"

"Cam?" Sam wondered.

He nodded. "Yeah, I mean I saw the guy in the hospital after the fight. He was supposed to walk again. Doctors said he would."

"Doctors said he had a good chance of walking due to his spine being intact. Not that he would."

"He's in a chair!"

"When you can't walk; that's where they put you."

"Sam! He was supposed to come here and work with us. I assumed he got a better opportunity. Pentagon maybe? I had no idea."

"They offered him a job in the pentagon but he turned it down."

The news baffled the linguist. "Why?"

"Not sure. Guess office work wasn't his thing."

"You have got to be kidding me!"

She shrugged, "Some guys are like that. Out in the field or not in the service at all."

Daniel muttered, "He's out in a field alright."

"You can always ask him, Daniel."

"I will," he said more to himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**Encampment **

After a long day of panhandling, Radio and Mitchell returned to their camp site. It wasn't much. A wooded plot next to a stream. Two tents were pitched. The larger to accommodate a wheelchair. An army surplus cot with sleeping bag and pillow served as the only bed. A small crate placed by the cot for a night stand. An old military foot locker was the only storage.

In the smaller dwelling was even less. Cardboard and foam served as a mattress; the only thing to insulate against the cold ground. A sleeping bag and pillow along with a wooden box for both storage and furniture.

Each tent was outfitted with a handmade aluminum stove made from a large can and old stove pipe. It wasn't very much and put out minimal heat but it was enough to keep the tents above freezing.

Mitchell lead radio into his tent. Wheeling himself more towards the center. He looked over at the ragged dressed companion. "So, let me guess. You need me to lay down and you can magically heal me by touch?"

She gave a funny look. "What the hell you think this is? Science fiction? Hello, Earth to Mitchell! I can't heal people by touching them. I have to lie down first." She held out a note pad and pencil for him to take. "You need to write down what I say."

He asked while taking the items, "Why don't you just write it down?"

Sitting on his cot, she admitted a secret. "I can't remember what I will say. I can go into this trance. When I am in this state, I can see inside your body and tell you what needs to be done. I won't remember it though."

Cocking his head to the side wondering if she was truly mentally stable or just plain insane his face contoured in the debate. "You serious?"

"Yep," she laid down on his bed. Trying to clear her mind to enter the self-induced trance.

He rolled closer to the bed. Still debating the idea. "You gonna see inside my body and tell me what's wrong?"

"And how to fix it," she reminded him. "Now, quiet. I need to concentrate."

"Okay," he placed his palm against his cheek and just stared at the woman laying on his bed. "Um, you in a trance yet?"

"No," she replied. "Shhh…"

"Sorry," he held up his hand. Waiting in awkward silence for a few moments more. Glancing at his wristwatch and then back at her. "You there yet?"

"No," she snorted. "Quiet."

"Just asking,' he muttered. Again waiting in awkwardness. A few more moments passed. "You there?"

Her voice changed to a monotone voice. Speaking as if from another world. "I have the body."

"Who's body?"

"The body of Cameron Mitchell."

Pausing for a moment he finally asked, "Um, what do you see?"

"Spinal compression of the fourteenth vertebra. Swelling of the spinal column. The column is intact."

Mitchell had to admit, "That's what the doc told me."

"Apply hot packs down length of spine, six times daily, to relieve pressure from swelling and inflammation. Hot packs to be made of caster oil, ginger root, root of dandelion, ground elm bark, alum root. Take internally beef juice three times a day. Manual therapy of neuropathy massage after each caster oil hot pack treatment."

Mitchell looked down at his own scribble. He wasn't sure if the remedy would help but at the same time nothing else had. It seemed so strange to him. Blood tonic, caster oil and massage would make him walk? This was insane!

Placing his chin in his hand he could help but ask, "Anything else?"

"Treatment for six weeks."

"Six weeks? Okay. How do I know this is real? Where are you getting this information from?"

"The universal knowledge." She replied still in monotone.

"Universal knowledge?"

"That is correct."

"Okay, so can you like the see the future and stuff?"

After a brief pause she answered, "I can see geological events. Man-made events are harder to see due to man's ever changing will."

"Oh…So, can you see the source of Radio's clicking sound? Tell me what you see."

"The source of the sounds are radiation waves, that my body can pick up, emit from a wormhole, that is being initiated using man-made technology in the mountain."

"Son of a…" he started in surprise. "You see the Stargate? What's it look like?"

"I see the device. Circular frame that holds the event horizon of the wormhole in place."

"Do you see how the gate works?"

Still deep in the trance she answered, "Yes. It works on a molecular level with requires ample energy to initiate the device. It mimics natural occurring wormholes."

"Son of a bitch," he whispered to himself. "Do you see the Ancients and their civilization?"

"I see the past. I see them."

"You see the future and the past?"

"Yes."

He sat beside himself as the information spewed from the subject. "Can you see the present? What is going on currently in the mountain?"

"Yes," her voice remained steady. "Much activity. Many guards and scientist."

"You see Sam Carter?"

"Yes."

"What she doing?"

After a brief pause the reply came back. "She is speaking about Cameron Mitchell with Daniel Jackson. The two are asking the general to find Cameron Mitchell an office position."

"She's trying to get me a job?"

"Yes."

"She successful?"

"Yes."

Curious he couldn't help but ask. "What job?"

"Writing reports for General Jonathon O'Neill."

"Colonel O'Neill is a general now." He chuckled. "Bet he loves that."

"He does not," she replied.

"If I take this job, what happens to Radio?"

"I will die."

It took him by surprise. She will die? "How?"

"Attacked by unstable men."

"The other homeless will kill you?"

"Yes."

"Damn." He paused and looked suspiciously. "I thought you said you couldn't see the will of men."

"This will is set. The men of decided it."

"And I'm in the way."

"Yes."

"Damn." He looked down at the paper. "Tell ya what, Radio. You get me walking and I will find away to get you in the SGC."

Still in an altered state she replied, "That is hard to see. Too many variables. Too many wills."

"Not letting you die."

"Death is out of your control. It's part of a natural cycle."

He leaned closer to her. Speaking firmly into her ear. "I am not letting you die."

**Next Morn**

Returning to the corner to yet another long day of panhandling seemed redundant to the colonel. After all he did net over twenty dollars from the previous day. But that twenty dollars wouldn't buy all the ingredients on the list nor a decent amount of food. So, once again Radio and Mitchell found themselves begging for scraps on a street corner.

Sam pulled up in her silver car once more. She spotted Colonel Mitchell and waved him over. "Cam."

He wheeled himself to the car. Unsure what to expect but certain some type of offer was about to come. "Hey, Sam."

She grinned, "How would you like to work in the SGC?"

He chuckled for the offer was exactly like he imagined. "Doing what?"

"Desk work," she told him. "Directly under General O'Neill."

"Colonel O'Neill is a general now?" He wasn't surprised for he had already gotten the information prior. Just a confirmation to Radio's abilities.

"Yeah, he is."

"Good for him."

She couldn't help but wonder why Mitchell seemed less than enthused about the offer. "You taking the job?"

"Desk job?"

"Yeah. It's a great offer, Cam." Her eyes pleaded with him to take the position.

He paused in thought. "Listen, Sam. I don't want a desk job. I still want SG-1. The position is still open, right?"

She gave a defeated look. "Yes, it is but, Cam…"

He interrupted her. "No, none of that. Listen…Okay? Just listen. You see that girl over there?" Pointing towards Radio.

She nodded. "You were telling me about her yesterday. Cam, she's not your responsibility. You don't need to take care of her."

"It's more than that, Sam."

"What do you mean?" She pondered if perhaps the pair were lovers.

"She's got this…Gift. She can go into a trance and see things. She doesn't remember any of it but she really can do it. She saw the stargate in a trance last night."

Fearing for the colonel's mental stability and if he was now divulging top secret information, her eyes pleaded with him. "Cam, please…Don't."

"I can prove it to you. Get me a recorder. Any recorder. Voice, tape…I don't care. I'll record a session and you can listen to it. Sam, please. She's in danger here. I know how this all sounds but…She can go into a trance and tap into some sort of universal knowledge. She told me how to cure myself. I need some cash, to buy the things, she said to get. Please Sam. Give me a chance to walk and to prove this kid is the real deal."

Reluctantly she agreed. She handed him another twenty dollar bill. "I'll get you a voice recorder. But, Cam…Please, be careful."

Grinning he retrieved the money. "Six weeks. Give me six weeks to walk. If I'm not walking in six weeks I swear I will take any rotten desk you throw at me."

"All right, six weeks," she agreed.

"If I walk; I get SG-1."

"If you walk I will hand you command of SG-1." She paused in thought for she was in command of SG-1. "Figuratively speaking."

He challenged her, "If I walk how about we get co-command?"

She chuckled at the suggestion. "Okay…If such a thing exist."

"Thanks, Sam." He wheeled back from the curb.

As Sam drove away Radio approached him. She wondered what the conversation was about for it was long. "Mitchell, what's that all about?"

He looked up at her and grinned, "You were right. I got offered a job and Jack O'Neill is now a general."

"Oh," she shrugged. "I don't recall any of it."

He grinned at her. His blue eyes dancing with excitement, "How do you feel about working in the mountain?"

"They won't let me near that place with a ten foot pole."

"I can get ya in,' he informed. "I told Sam about your trance thing. All we have to do is record a session or two."

Her eyes grew wide, "You told her? How could you? I told you not to tell anyone."

He pointed a finger at her, "That is what is gonna get you in there."

"Maybe, I don't want to go in there!"

Waving his arm, "What? You would rather live on the street?"

"At least here, I'm not a guinea pig."

"Sam won't hurt you. She will help you. I didn't even tell them about the broadcasting thing."

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms in anger. "You dumb shit. They will want to make me into an experiment. And no way in hell they will hire me. I received a dishonorable discharge. They run my back ground and that will stare at them in the face."

Mitchell looked at her in question. "What the hell is your name anyways?"

"Cayce. Last name is Cayce."

"What's your first?"

She looked down at the ground and mumbled inaudibly.

"What?" He couldn't make anything she said out.

"Edna," she admitted.

He broke out laughing. "Your first name is Edna?"

She nodded still crossed.

"Edna? Geeze, that's an old lady's name."

"Shut up!" She pushed against the chair.

Giggling he suggested, "Let's stick to Radio. Sounds cooler."

"You're so kind," she replied. Turned and walked back to her small section of grass. Holding up a sign and a tin can.

He looked upon her. Assuring himself. "Don't worry, Cayce. I won't tell anyone your first name." Pausing in afterthought, "Except Sam."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

After the morning rush hour traffic subsided, Radio and Mitchell wandered into town to find the ingredients on the list. Armed with forty dollars which he had received from Sam in the last two days, he was determined to get as much items as he could.

Radio had managed to acquire a whole sum of four dollars and forty-eight cents. She felt like a fool. Even destitute and homeless an officer was still getting more than she ever did. He also seemed to get far more respect than she ever could have dreamed of.

Even without his friend Sam giving him twenty dollar bills, Mitchell still seemed to gain more income from total strangers then she could. Perhaps, it was the chair? Being in a chair would certainly help with the pity factor.

Needless to say, she needed to up the game a bit. Prove she could be good at atleast one thing in life. Currently he goal of being a good "homeless vet" was not working out so well.

She walked into the drug store behind Mitchell. As the colonel wheeled himself over to the homeopathic section she wandered through the aisles. Coming to the a section of pens and pencils. A package of pencils stared back her. She picked up the package and for a dollar fifty she could buy it. Over twenty pencils in a pack. If she charged a quarter each she could make five dollars on the pack.

Making her way to the check out clerk she slipped the pencils before the girl. Then quietly asked the clerk for help. "Miss, could I ask a favor of you?"

The teenage clerk was rather repulsed by the smell of homelessness. But tried to maintain a pleasant demeanor in fear of getting fired if she was rude. "What is it?"

"Could you get a piece of scrap cardboard and take a black marker and make a sign for me?"

Holding her breath, "What would you like it to say?"

"Disabled vet. Pencils - Twenty-five cents a piece. Please help."

"Okay," she agreed. "I'll get it after I ring you up here."

Mitchell came rolling up behind her with a bag in his hand. "Radio, found most of it here."

"That's good," she told him.

He looked at the purchase. "What ya gonna do? Sell pencils?"

"Yup."

He rolled his eyes. "Just fake a lost arm or something. Geeze, you know that Hawk really had both legs right?"

"I'm not gonna deceive people," she told him.

"Fine," he then looked at the clerk making a sign before them. "You enlisted help too?"

"I asked if she could help me make a sign."

"Glad to do it," the clerk replied. She held it up for her to read. "How's this?"

"Perfect," Radio replied.

"Wanna make money? Just charge people for that health reading thing." He looked up at the clerk, "She can tell people how to heal themselves. Goes into this trance. Really cool. I'm trying one of her readings out now. If I walk in six weeks; you know she's the real deal."

Radio rolled her eyes, "First, I would never charge for it. Second, can't you keep your big mouth shut? How did you ever manage to be a colonel in the first place? You can't keep a secret if your life depended on it."

He smirked, "I can keep plenty of secrets. Just you ain't one of them."

The clerk looked at her. "You do health readings on people?"

Reluctantly Radio nodded. "If you want one done, just tell me the name and location of the person."

The clerk decided to test the claim, "My grandmother has cancer."

"Just need her name and town." Radio informed.

The clerk scribbled it down on a piece of paper. She looked around to make sure no one saw. "Here."

Radio took the paper and looked at it. She slid the paper back. "I'll do the reading tonight and have Cam write down what to do for her, if anything can be done. Will you be working tomorrow?"

"Same hours tomorrow," the girl replied.

Radio warned, "It's might be too far along to help her. But I will try."

The teen swallowed back a tear. "Grandma is all I've got. I quite school to stay with her. I don't want to lose her."

"I will do my best," Radio assured.

**Streets**

While walking home, Radio and Mitchell got separated as the colonel entered another store to find more items on the list. Not wishing to spend what little money she had, she waited near the back of the store for her friend to emerge. Then they would cross a vacant lot to pick up the path back to camp.

From around the corner three men emerged. She recognized them as fellow homeless. The leader of the trio; a tall man with blond hair, rough features and an attitude to match, marched towards her. Fist clenched as his eye narrowed in on the prey.

The other two vagrants hung back slightly. Only becoming bold when the leader of the tramps presented himself in aggression. Neither particularly stood out. Rather average in size and appearance. Dressed in old ragged camouflage gear from what had to be army surplus.

The leader chuckled at the site. His least favorite homeless comrade standing rather helpless behind a store where no one could see. It was perfect. He snarled at her, "Where's your four wheeling friend, Radio?"

Unsure what to make of it she jested over her shoulder, "In there. Why?"

"Just wondering." He stopped before her and placed both hands against the cement wall. Essentially trapping her. "Know what I think?"

She rolled her eyes trying to show no fear. Yet, fear ran through her. She knew the man was unstable mentally but no idea what harm he could inflict. "No," she calmly replied.

"I think you owe us some meat. You know, your friend, Wheely…He's been taken a lot of money from those cars lately."

"He's friends with some brass who give it to him…Not to me."

"He lives with you."

"We just share a camp site, Blondie."

"He feeds you with it!"

"So," she pushed back against him. "I didn't ask."

He pushed her hard against the wall. Face to face and so close his spit landed upon her. "You two taking money from the rest of us. You owe us some meat."

Not sure if she was more angry or scared she rebutted the assertion with as much courage as she could muster. "I don't have any meat. All I have is some canned corn. Want that? Take it!"

"No, other kind of meat."

"What other kind of meat?"

His hand reached for her pants. Instantly she knew what he meant. Raising her leg she kicked at him, trying to get away. The two vagrants with Blondie grabbed her arms and dragged her to the ground.

As the men pinned her down the blond leader started to undo her clothing. Kicking and screaming she tried to get away but found she was over powered by the men.

The attack started so fast she no time to comprehend what was happening to her. Fighting feverishly to get away, but unable too, she wondered if she would even survive what was about to happen. Images of her nude body being found in a trash can ran through her mind. She started to shut down. Too shocked to move.

A broom handle came out of nowhere and made contact on the side of Blondie's head. He jerked around in pain and anguish. His eyes settled on the source. Colonel Mitchell sitting in his chair holding a long stick.

Mitchell didn't give him a chance to think or even respond. Surprise was his only element. Taking the broom handle he made contact with Achilles' heel of one of the vagrants. Then flipping the handle around he smacked the man in the face. Blood started gushing as the vagrant's hand flew up to his injury.

The other vagrant didn't fare much better. A good stick end to the gut along with a whack to the back of the head was more than enough for him to leave.

Blondie came up around the side. Gaining traction he flipped the whole chair over. Swiping the broom handle from Mitchell's hand. Then turning it on him with one swift swoosh. A crack to the side of the head, Mitchell lay on the pavement in pain.

Blondie turned his attention back towards Radio. Determined to have her pay for his lack of success. Grabbing her pants once more. "Come here, ya bitch. You're mine."

Her foot flew up at his face. Kicking him hard in the chin. Blood oozed from his lip. He didn't flinch but merely laughed at her feeble attempt. "You call yourself a solider? Pathetic!"

A gun shot rang out about his head. He turned around to find the crippled colonel had retrieved a handgun from his wheelchair bag. The pistol was leveled on him. "Next shot goes right between your eyes, Blondie."

Pausing the vet tried to gauge his chances of success. Debating if he could wrestle the gun away from the crippled pilot. Turning his back to Radio he sized up the play.

Mitchell warned, "Don't make me kill you. You're a vet. I'm a vet. Don't become the enemy, Blondie."

As Radio gathered herself, she decided to make one final move. Her leg positioned between the attackers two feet, her foot flew up and hit him square in the crotch.

Blondie's eyes grew wide from the sudden shock and sever pain he endured. Grabbing his crotch and falling to his knees in pain. Unable to talk his head jerked back.

Radio scrambled to her feet. Quickly getting to Mitchell's chair. Up righting the contraption. She grabbed Mitchell's arm to help lift him.

He grinned at her as she helped him up. "Good move!"

"Feet don't fail me now!" She smirked back. "Let's get the hell out of here."

**Later That day**

Still shaken from the attack, Radio reluctantly agreed to stay in Mitchell's tent for protection. She feared Blondie and his friends would come in the middle of the night to finish the job. While she was not armed; Mitchell was an armed man in a wheelchair, which was far better than an unarmed woman by herself.

Mitchell had gained another twenty dollars and a digital voice recorder from Sam on her way home from work. Colonel Carter hoped he was right about the girl. For, so far this week, she had given him over sixty dollars and the habit was becoming expensive. There was a fine line between helping a friend in need and feeling used. And Sam was reaching that line.

With the earlier attack still fresh in his mind and the very prediction given by Radio in regards to her own death, Mitchell was determined to get both of them off the streets. The little recorder in his hands was the key to accomplishing the goal. With so much at steak, he fiddled with the recorder to ensure the batteries were good.

Radio laid down on her make shift mattress and sleeping bag. Trying to relax enough to do the reading for the cashier. As Mitchell tested the recorder Radio felt herself go into the trance.

"I have the body," her voice was monotone once more.

"The grandmother?"

"Yes."

He placed the recorder on top of Radio's chest to ensure it was close enough. "Okay, can she be cured of cancer?"

"The grandmother does not have cancer. Her cells are damaged from the chemicals given to treat her. She must stop all treatment immediately."

"She doesn't have cancer?"

"No," Radio replied. "No indication of having any cancer. May have been misdiagnosed. The treatment is harming her. She must stop the treatment."

"Okay, then what?"

"Would need to apply hot compress of caster oil daily to draw out the toxins. Would need beef tonic and natural supplements to rebuild cellular damage."

Mitchell blinked in surprise, "So, Grandma doesn't have cancer. They misdiagnosed her and it's the medication making her sick?"

"Yes."

"But don't they double check to be sure someone has cancer?"

"I cannot explain the diagnosis processes used in this case."

"So, we tell the kid to have grandma stop all meds and take health food?"

"Yes."

"Easy enough. Okay, I want you to do another reading. This time on Samantha Carter."

"I have the body."

"Good, what do you see?"

Pausing for a moment. "Healthy cellular structure over all. Has consumed over abundance of a stimulant."

"Sam doesn't take drugs."

"The stimulant is found in food and drink. Caffeine."

He grimaced, "I think she drinks a lot of coffee."

"Too much coffee," Radio agreed. "Has cellular residue of past exposure to toxic chemicals. Has cellular residue of plasma based energy exposure. Is currently in middle of reproductive cycle."

"I don't need to know that!"

"Is there another body?"

"Yeah, let's do…Daniel Jackson. Lives here in Colorado Springs too."

She paused for a moment. "I have the body." Pausing once more, "Body consumes much caffeine. Cellular residue even more complex. This body has died a number of times."

Cam nodded, "Yeah…Jackson is like the _Energizer_ bunny. He just keeps going and going and going."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**SGC**

Sam brought the recorder that Cam gave her that morning to work. She hoped it would have definite proof that Mitchell's friend was gifted. As she listened to the tape her attention drew to every word that Radio spoke.

It was rather inconclusive over all. The readings were vague. Even the grandmother's reading lacked credible information. No identification nor real history to go on to verify any of the claims.

Her only verification was that both she and Daniel did indeed drink too much coffee. And even the insistence that Daniel had died in the past, though true, was not enough to verify the claims Colonel Mitchell had made.

Sam debated if she should take the tape to General O'Neill or ask for more readings from Mitchell. Her scientific back ground told her she needed more samples. While her enthusiasm to get her homeless friend off the streets tore at her consciousness.

Daniel stopped at the door of her office. Two coffee cups in his hands. "I brought you some coffee, Sam."

She looked over at him and smiled. "You know, we drink way too much of that stuff."

He sipped his cup and gave a nod. "True, can't argue with that." Careful not to spill, he strolled into the office and placed the hot coffee before his friend. Looking at the recorder, "What you have there?"

"Readings Radio did for Cam."

"The strange homeless girl?"

"Yeah," a slight smile crept across her face. "Listen to this." She pressed the play button and waited for his reaction.

After listening to the tape Daniel gave pause. "She's right! You drink too much coffee."

"So do you. What do you think of the rest of it?"

"Kind of iffy."

She had to agree, "That's what I thought too."

The linguist suggested, "Really test her! Have her do a reading of Teal'c."

Grinning from ear to ear, "Perfect subject. Jaffa, not human. Excellent idea, Daniel."

He grinned back, "Glad you like it. Tell your buddy, Mitchell that if he ever calls me the _Energizer _bunny again, I will sick Teal'c after him."

"He was just kidding," Sam assured.

"Wasn't funny!" Daniel pouted.

She comforted him, "Cam thinks very highly of you. We all do, Daniel."

He gave a smirk, "Not sure about that. You know what Walter just asked me?"

She shook her head, "No."

"Now that the military repealed Don't Ask/Don't Tell, will Jack and I be moving in together."

She tried not to laugh for she knew Daniel was sensitive about the old rumor. But her face reflected the amusement nevertheless. "If you do, can I have your place?"

"Very funny," he snorted.

"Make sure to tell Janet that one," she reminded him. "She'll get a kick out of it."

Pausing in thought, "I would not be surprised if it was Janet who started the rumor."

Sam nodded, "Well, can't blame her if she did. Gotta keep all those hot young recruits away from you." Teasing a little more, "Oh, wait…It's the Goa'uld you tend to attract."

"Funny," he stated sarcastically. "I'll be sure to remind her of that at dinner tonight. Let me know what Radio get's on Teal'c. That will be interesting." As he turned to leave he paused once more. "You know who else could do that health reading thing?"

She shook her head.

"Edgar Cayce, the Sleeping Profit. Be weird if we got another one."

"Lived a long time ago?"

"Died at the end of World War Two. Really interesting stuff. Keep me posted on Radio."

"Will do," Sam assured.

**Road Side**

Edna "Radio" Cayce kneeled on the grass. In one hand she held the tin cup with pencils. The cardboard sign hung around her neck. Her fingers gently played with the blades of cool grass.

Begging was not as easy as one might assume. It was rather dull, long and tiring. Not much effort for the brain. Just to be perceived as pathetic and needy. And at that moment, pathetic and needy was exactly how Cayce felt.

She had sold a whole four pencils so far. Making herself one dollar from the scheme. She looked up to where Mitchell sat in his chair. Holding his sign that he made himself. _Vet of Top secret Space Program. Could be delusional. Please help!_

She couldn't understand how his sign got more attention than her own. Top secret space program? Please! Perhaps, he was delusional but harmless. Yet, Cam got the money. All he had to do was flash a smile and money fell in his lap.

Perhaps, she just needed a more colorful sign? Something that would make her more pathetic than him. She was tempted to write down: _Disabled vet! Can hear the radio at all times. Please help. _Or perhaps, _I see dead people! _Either way, her little sign to sell pencils certainly wasn't as alluring as Cam's sign claming he was in a secret space program.

A red car pulls up to the chair bound vet. Hands out a dollar as the driver wonders, "What's the secret space program?"

Cam flashed a smile, "Well, I could tell ya…But, then I would have to kill ya."

The man gave a laugh and drove away. It wasn't so much the claim of secret knowledge but rather the entertainment value associated.

She looked down at her pathetic four quarters. Then back to her tent-mate, who shoved another dollar bill in his pocket. It irked her! He was far more popular. Far better looking and far more charming. Making her feel even less than pathetic…If there was such a drop.

Colonel Carter decided to save herself a twenty dollar bill and go directly to the source of the recordings. Pulling along the roadside where Edna Cayce kneeled. "Radio?" Sam asked.

Her ear perked up. Instinctively she wiggled the cup, "Pencils for sale. Twenty-five cents."

Sam grabbed a few quarters from her center console. "I'll take two." She dropped the quarters in the cup and let radio hand her two pencils.

"Here ya go," she replied.

Sam asked, "Can you do a reading for me tonight?"

Nodding, "Sure. For yourself?"

"Nope, for my father. Jacob Carter." She decided not to risk Teal'c in fear that Cam had slipped out top secret information. Jacob Carter was one person Cam knew nothing about.

"Where does he live?" Cayce asked. "I need a name and place."

Cautious not to disclose certain information; Sam asked, "You sure you need that?"

"That way I know I have the right body," Cayce explained.

"It's really far away."

"I need a country."

Opting not to tell her he lived off world she simply replied, "He lives in a place called P3X 117. That's all I can tell you."

"P3X 117?" Cayce gave a funny look. Where on earth is that?"

Sam winced, "I can't tell you the location. All I can tell you is P3X 117. Sorry, but I can't give you more."

Cayce committed it to memory. "Jacob Carter. P3X 117. Got it!"

Sam then slipped her a five dollar bill. "This is for the reading."

Radio handed it back to her. "I can't take it. It's not something I can sell."

"Then what would you like in return?" Sam wondered.

Uneasy she shook her head, "I can't really take anything."

"Than what do you need?" Sam asked.

"Need?" Cayce's mind wandered back to her campsite. "Could use a new pillow. New bedding. Food, batteries. Maybe some mace. Another vet attacked me. Cam fought him off."

"Cam fought of an attacker?" Her ears perked up. "Is he walking?"

She shook her head. "No! He beat the crap out of him while sitting in that chair. Then used his pistol to scare him off. He may not be able to walk but that's not stopping him."

"I see." Sam then tucked the five dollar bill in the tin cup. "How many pencils will five dollars buy?"

Cayce handed her the bunch. "Here ya go."

"I'll get you those supplies tomorrow. Okay?"

"I'll have the reading for your father done tonight."

She smiled and gave a nod, "I know you will."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**SGC**

Sitting around the briefing room table, Sam Carter placed the voice recorder in the center. "I asked Colonel Mitchell's friend, and girl known as 'Radio,' to do a health reading on my father. I only told her his name and the designation number we assigned to the planet the Tok'ra have been living on. I think you should all listen to this."

The records began to play. "I have the body. There is a symbiotic existence between two species. The human body is healthy. The symbiote is aging. It is affecting the ability to regenerate cellular structure. To ease the added stress the consumption of birch bark, that has been soaked in purified water and strained, is recommended. Make into a tea infusing alum, milk thistle and dandelion roots. May sweeten with honey. Consume in the morning after waking." The recording ended.

Daniel blinked and looked at Jack who sat stone faced staring at the recorder. He then glanced at Janet who's eyebrows was raised considerable. Then onto Teal'c who paused in deep thought in the information. Finally, to Sam whose expression matched his own.

Decisively asking, "What did she just do? A reading on a Tok'ra?"

Sam nodded, "She just told us how to keep Salmak healthy as she ages. This could extend her natural life."

Jack suspiciously asked, "All you said was Jacob's name and the planet designation number?"

She affirmed. "I didn't tell her anything about a symbiote. Mitchell doesn't know my father is a host. She got this on her own."

Daniel injected, "And the reading she did on us."

Jack queried, "Us, Daniel? She did one on me too?"

Sam quelled the concern, "No sir. Just Daniel and myself. She knew we had both experienced death, cellular regeneration and that we drink too much coffee."

Janet then motioned, "Why you switched to tea?"

Shrugging the colonel couldn't help but agree. "I thought she was right. I do drink too much coffee."

Janet seemed a bit miffed, "I've been telling you that for how long now?"

She shrugged again, "Years…I know, Janet. I know."

Daniel brought the topic back on track. "Has Mitchell told us anything else about her? Her name, anything?"

With a nod Sam affirmed, "Not her name…But mentioned she saw the gate in a trance. He thinks she can hear it dialing. He said she can hear radio transmissions…That's how she got the nick name. She seems like a very nice person, honest, concerned."

Jack huffed, "Honest?"

Sam explained, "I tried to give her money for my father's reading. She refused to take it. I ended up buying a bunch of pencils just to give her five dollars."

"Pencils?" Jack wondered.

"Pencils. She sells them."

Jack pondered the situation. "Homeless chick selling pencils, who can go do these readings on people and hear radio transmissions? Knows about the gate?"

Sam corrected, "Actually she doesn't know about the gate."

He retorted, "You just said she did."

She shook her head, "She can hear it, Sir. She doesn't remember the readings. That's why she has to use the recorder or have Mitchell write them down. She has no idea what she says. She goes into a trance when she does them."

"Like Edgar Cayce!" Daniel asserted.

Sam wondered, "Did Edgar Cayce read radio transmissions too?"

Shaking his head, "No, he couldn't do that. But he could do health readings and access the universal knowledge while in a trance."

Jack looked at his two star scientist going on about someone he never heard of before. He wasn't sure what to make of the situation nor what to make of the Sleeping Prophet. But he did know a major disclosure issue when he saw one.

"We can't let this girl wonder around out there knowing about the gate." The general informed.

Sam corrected with a lift of the finger, "She doesn't actually know about it, Sir."

"Carter!" He remained stern.

"Sorry sir," she yielded.

Daniel proposed, "We really should bring her in for testing."

Janet agreed, "I have a number of test that I want to run on her."

Sam winced, "Might not be so easy."

"Carter?" Jack wanted her to explain in detail.

"Well, she has a distrust for authority and Mitchell doesn't think she will willingly come in here if she knows we want to do test. She might not even cooperate."

"Then pick her up and bring her in," the general ordered.

"She won't cooperate, Sir. Mitchell is her only friend. She trust him."

"Then have Mitchell bring her in." Jack commanded.

"He wants, SG-1."

He looked at her in total disbelief. "SG-1?" The man was in a wheelchair and he wanted SG-1. Was Mitchell insane?

She then mentioned, "I told him he could have it, if he could walk again in a few weeks. Radio told him what to do."

Shocked Janet scolded, "Sam, you and Mitchell are the same rank. You and I are the same rank. That would be like the two of us leading SG-1 together."

Daniel argued, "I'm sure Mitchell would know Sam's in charge."

Janet shot him a look, "Does that mean that I wouldn't?"

He back tracked, "Um…Not…Um…Shutting up now."

"Good move," Jack congratulated him on avoiding going toe-to-toe with the power monger. Giving Sam and order, "I don't care how you do it. Get her in here."

"Yes sir." Sam wished the meeting had gone better. Now she wasn't sure how she was going to accomplish the order.

**Encampment**

Sam found herself walking into the encampment that Mitchell shared with Cayce. As a military special forces expert, she was used to seeing camp sights. Military encampments that were temporary bases for special operations. Camping on another planet was not as foreign to the seasoned veteran.

But seeing the conditions of which her friend was forced to live every single day of his life, was about as foreign to her as camping on another planet could be. It wasn't a temporary shelter or special base. It was a home.

This home didn't have a front door and large bay windows. No driveway with a car sitting in a garage. No basement with a washer and dryer for clothing. No electricity, no refrigerator with a weeks supply of fresh food. No bathroom to take a hot shower or for that matter a flushing toilet.

It was primitive! A makeshift shelter that housed everything the man owned, which wasn't much anymore. All his belongings were gone. Including his prized classic Mustang.

Colonel Mitchell's life was reduced to one of survival. To live each day, every day, one day at a time. And this mission had no visible end. No base to return too and no back up. No support troops to relieve him. Just himself and a young woman…Clinging to the edge of existence.

Sam took a deep breath and approached the large tent. Standing outside there was nothing to knock on or bell to ring, she called out his name, "Cam? You home?"

Her words sent chills down her own spine. Home? She called this horrible tent a home! A lump grew in her throat. How can a man who saved her life, call this place a home?

His voice came back, "Come on in, Sam."

Reaching down she unzipped the door of the tent. She spotted Radio laying on Mitchell's cot and he sitting next to her in his wheelchair.

He lifted a finger to his lips. "Shh, she just went into her trance."

Sam cautiously approached her. Looked upon the young woman for any signs of being in a trance. The eyes were closed tight, hands folded on her stomach. She didn't move.

"What you doing a reading on?" Sam wondered.

Mitchell replied, "The future! I asked her to see if anyone is in danger in the SGC."

She let out a sigh, "Cam, you're not supposed to tell her anything about that."

"She knows about the gate…In this state."

"I see a death," Cayce spoke in monotone once more.

Cam leaned forward, "Who's?"

"A retired General. George Hammond."

Sam's face grimaced in shock. "How?"

"Of a heart attack due to age related heart disease."

Sam gulped, "When?"

"Half hour ago."

She couldn't believe her ears, "What?"

"The body has passed. One half an hour ago."

"No," she shook her head. "General Hammond is fine. He's retried but fine."

Cayce assured, "The body has passed. His sole has gone over. He will return in a new life in ten years. He will be reincarnated."

"What?" Sam shook her head. "That's impossible."

"You will received notice in twenty seconds."

"What?"

Mitchell looked at her. "Sam, I'm sorry. I wish I had gotten to know him."

Her phone then rang. She looked at the caller ID. It was Jack O'Neill. Placing the receiver to her ear, she spoke in a calm voice, "Sir?"

Jack's voice was somber. "Carter, I got some bad news."

Swallowing her tears she asked, "Is it General Hammond?"

His voice remained soothing. "Yeah, I just got a call from his daughter. They found him in his bed. Heart. You okay, Carter?"

"I'm alright," her voice cracked.

He sensed the stress, "Anything wrong? Other than…George's passing?"

"Radio just predicted it. It's kind of surreal here. She even said my phone was about to ring."

He paused for a moment, deep in thought as to the implication, "She predicted anything else?"

"Not yet." Sam then looked at Radio, "Anyone else going to die?"

"Yes," Cayce replied.

Sam wondered, "Who?"

"Lt. Colonel Janet Frasier."

"How?" Sam's stomach just ached from stress.

"On P3X 666. Can be avoided."

"How?"

Cayce instructed, "Do not go to P3X 666. Do no engage Anubis."

"Then how do we defeat Anubis?"

Cayce replied, "You cannot. You did not create Anubis. The Ascended did and they must deal with their mistake."

Mitchell asked, "If they refuse? Should we just give up?"

Cayce replied, "Those who refer to themselves as the 'Ascended' have failed and they shall be destroyed. They shall deal with Anubis. It is not your place to do so."

Cam threw in another question, "What if Anubis attacks earth?"

She replied, "Earth has a defense system. More outpost like the one you found in Antarctica."

"Where are they?"

"Three more systems. Artic site, China site and Mexico."

Cam grinned at Sam, "Bet'cha didn't know that?"

"No," Sam agreed. "You think you and Radio would be willing to come into the SGC?"

He shrugged, "Not sure if she will come in. And I still got five weeks to walk. And this treatment; I only just started it, but I do feel it working."

"How about we finish the treatment in the SGC with Dr. Frasier?"

Mitchell puckered in thought. "Can't leave, Cayce?"

Sam cocked her head to the side, "Her name is 'Cayce?'"

"Edna Cayce," he proudly proclaimed.

"Is she related to Edgar Cayce?"

Her voice replied, "This body is a descendant of the Cayce family."

He grinned, "Guess that's a 'yes.'"

"We need to bring her in," Sam stated.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**SGC**

It wasn't easy getting Radio to agree to go to the mountain. She refused at first. Mitchell and Sam needed to work extra hard to convince her that nothing would happen to her, that she would not be made into some human lab rat.

Finally, breaking down to the pressure of the pair, she found herself in the elevator riding down, down, down. She looked up at the reading on how many floors deep they were, "26, 27, 28."

"Twenty-eight floors?" Radio then stated, "That's deep."

"We are down pretty deep," Sam admitted. "It's for safety reasons."

She wondered, "What's in here?"

Sam assured her, "You will find out after a debriefing."

The door slid open to reveal a petit, redheaded doctor, standing crossed armed before them. Her eyes settled on the homeless pair, "Welcome to the SGC. I'm Doctor Frasier, I will escort Colonel Mitchell and Miss Cayce to the infirmary."

Radio asked, "What for?"

"Basic physical, blood work and to get cleaned up." Janet tried to win her confidence, "You do not have to be here, Miss Cayce. You are free to go whenever you wish. All you have to do is say so."

She paused for a moment, "Not gonna dissect my brain?"

Finding her assumption amusing, Janet shook her head, "Absolutely not. I will ask to an EEKG and have you submit to an scan, but nothing invasive. You have my word."

After a moment of thought she replied, "Okay, but no…cutting me up or anything."

"I would never allow anything like that?"

Mitchell added, "Dr. Frasier is one of the top doctors in the Air Force. I wanted them to transfer me here after my crash. Thought I would have a better chance at walking under Frasier. Radio, this is an opportunity of a life time. Gotta start trusting someone."

Radio gave nod, took a deep breath and stepped off the elevator. It was a small triumph for the wheelchair bound man. A first step towards normalcy. With each small step, a step closer to walking once more. He was sure that with Frasier and Radio working together, his chances of walking were now over ninety percent. And Radio's chances of survival near one hundred percent.

Mitchell grinned as he rolled the chair forward, clearing the elevator door, "Alright! Now we're cooking."

Radio and Frasier both gave him a funny look.

Sam informed her friend, "We still have a lot of work to do, Cam."

"I know," he rejoiced. "But this is a start! Getting Radio in here was like pulling teeth."

Radio grinned in one last attempt to get even with her friend for exposing her secret, "Speaking of teeth…Cam has a bad tooth and needs to see a dentist today too."

His hand went to the affected era of his jaw, "No, it's not that bad. It can wait."

Cayce shook her head, "It's bad. He's having trouble chewing. Been eating soft food this whole week."

Mitchell's fear of dentist started to show, "It's not that bad. I don't need to see the dentist, right away. It can wait…Till I have a good stiff drink."

Janet assured, "You will see the dentist today, Colonel."

He gave Radio a daring look, "You did that on purpose."

She nodded with a grin, "You're right, I did."

**Commissary**

Colonel Mitchell sat in his chair eyeing the endless array of food before him. It all looked so appetizing, bright red apples, oranges, deserts, and endless meats all for the picking. Too bad his mouth was numb from having a cavity filled by his least favorite doctor…The dentist.

He had cleaned himself up, shaved and cut his hair. Dressed in blue BDU's and nice new boots. He was strikingly handsome to even the most heterosexual male on the base. A man's man! A modern day Jimmy Stewart. Brilliantly good looking with the ability to make the ladies swoon with a flash of a smile.

Edna "Radio" Cayce walked into the commissary to get herself something to eat after her physical and initial clean up. She pulled back her straight black hair to a pony tail. Donned a set of green DBU's. Her eyes settled on the man in the chair. She knew it was Mitchell but never expected him to look so handsome.

He looked up at her and gave a half smile, for his mouth wasn't working fully yet, his words sounded muffled, "Where you been?"

Cayce blinked, "Damn, you look good. Shaved and got a hair cut, huh?"

He pulled his lip down, "And drilled. Thanks a lot for that one."

She waltzed over beside him, plopping down in the chair next to his, leaning closer to his face, "You needed it, Dear."

He shook his head, "Doc, said it was a small cavity. I could of went longer."

She grinned, "You're such a baby."

"Am not," he muttered. "Mouth feels like it's full of cotton."

"Sounds it too," she remarked. Picking at his food. "So, what you got here. Oh, that looks good."

"Doesn't Frasier have some testing for you to do?"

Playful she shook her head, "All done. Just stuck me on a scanner and put these little sensors in my hair. By the way…I'm in perfect shape. Not bad for someone who has been homeless! Oh, and I get my own room here."

He remarked while slurping Jell-o, "So do I."

Radio then informed, "Janet asked me to do another reading of your spine when I was there. We're gonna start you on physical therapy today. I wonder if she will let me wear a doctor's coat too? Since, I'm playing doctor now."

He scoffed, "No, you are not a doctor. You are a psychic and you do readings. That doesn't make you a doctor, you just get to help a doctor."

"Oh, don't be such a downer. After lunch, I get my debriefing and Janet said I will finally find out what is making that noise."

He shoved another spoonful of jell-o into his numb mouth, "You already know what is making the noise. You saw it in a reading."

"I did?" She seemed rather confused, "I already know but don't remember?"

He nodded, "Ah-hah."

She slapped his shoulder, "Why won't you tell me?"

"I swore and oath not too tell anyone," he replied smartly.

She rolled her eyes, "This is just insane."

**Briefing Room**

It was the moment of truth for Radio. She would finally find out what has been making that horrible clicking and swishing sound. She couldn't for the life of her figure out what it could be. Nothing she could think of made such a noise. But atleast it didn't matter anymore. She would finally get an answer.

She was seated next to Sam at the table. Daniel Jackson seated across from them and Jack O'Neill at the head.

Jack's eyes settled on her. He had read Frasier's report. The doctor found nothing out of the ordinary when the patient was awake. But in the trance the report showed a hyper activity to the subconscious mind, giving credibility to the claim of needing a trance to access this realm of information.

Radio's eyes settled on the general, she asserted a remark, "Anyone ever tell ya that you look a lot like MacGyver?"

He didn't move or blink, just sat and stared at her with no real expression whatsoever.

"Guess not," she told herself.

Sam had to look down at the table before her to regain her focus. She found the assertion hysterical considering how inapt Jack was with his hands.

Daniel looked over at his friend. "Ya know…You do kind of…"

Jack gave him a stern look.

Daniel paused in thought, "Maybe not."

The general looked down at his own notes before him, "You were accused of aiding the enemy."

Cayce denied the claim, "I could hear the transmissions. I wasn't helping them, it was a mistake."

"You think you can hear transmissions?"

She nodded, "I can hear all transmissions. But, it's a bit harder to hear them this far underground."

Jack folded his hands, "What do you hear?"

"Radio, cell phone...All of it."

"Anything top secret?"

She paused debating if she should reply, "I'm not sure just what is top secret. I used to hear transmissions from the _Prometheus,_ but I haven't heard anything in a while."

Sam looked at Daniel and then at Jack, she never expected to hear the old ship's name coming from the subject; the ship long destroyed, she now wondered if Radio could hear the replacement ship, "Do you hear any other ships?"

"Is the _Deadalus_ a ship?"

Jack took a breath and slid the paper before her, "You sign that and then I can answer your question."

She started to read the paper over, cranking her neck as she tried to understand the legal wording, "Um, got a lawyer who can explain this to me?"

"It's a standard disclosure agreement," Sam assured. "We all signed it. It just says you promise not to disclose what you see and hear…Here."

"If I don't sign this, I won't find out the clicking sound?"

Jack stated, "You go back to being homeless."

Reluctantly she let out deep sigh. "Fine, I'll sign it." Scribbled her name on the paper and slid it back to him.

Jack took the paper and placed it in his folder, looked over at Daniel, "Why don't you give her the history?"

Nodding he started, "Back in 1928, there was an Egyptian dig…"

The gate room became active with a dial in from off world. It was scheduled and no one even heard the event horizon establish. No one that is, except Radio.

She felt like she was hit from behind. The radio wave ran through her body at lighting speed. She threw herself back in shock, falling from the chair.

"What's that," it was the most intense things she ever felt.

The trio looked at one another in surprise.

Sam stood up and saw the gate was active with a team returning, then looked down at Radio still on the floor, shaking from the energy.

She yelled at Walter, "Close the gate."

As the event horizon dissipated the intense radio wave ceased, Cayce was able to regain her composure; she swallowed hard, "What was that?"

Daniel went to help her up, "That was the Stargate." He led her to the window over looking the gate room. The lone standing gate seemed harmless enough.

"What did it just do?"

Sam answered, "We had a team come in from off world. You were hit by the radio wave the gate gave off. It floored you."

Radio asked, "Can you stop that?"

Sam wasn't sure, she had never seen anyone react to the gate like that, "I don't know."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

After a grueling physical therapy, Cameron Mitchell was free to relax. His new quarters were far better than what he was accustom too. No dirt or mud to wheel through, the room was spacious and equipped with medical rails to aid him in mobility. He was given a private bathroom, that too equipped for mobility. A television nestled in the far corner and a table and chairs off from the foot of the bed.

After changing into some general issued pajamas, he lifted himself onto his bed. Rolled onto his stomach and found the remote control. Turned on the TV and settled down to watch one of his favorite shows, _Farscape._

A knock came at his door.

He hollered out, "It's open."

Radio popped her head inside, "You still up?"

He waved at her in, "Come on."

She closed door behind her, still dressed in the BDU's that were issued, looked about his new room, "Man, your's is bigger than mine. I got a closet compared to this."

He grinned at the admission, "That's because I'm an officer and you're…Not."

"Very funny," she snorted. She crawled onto the bed next to him. "What'cha watching?"

"_Farscape," _he answered.

"What show is that?"

"This really cool science fiction show. See, this pilot ended up in this space ship with a bunch of aliens."

She gazed into his blue eyes, "Is that your goal in life?" pointing towards the door, "Cause, some would think it is. Be a pilot on a spaceship with aliens. Freaky, but true."

He shushed her, "No, shh. It's on. See that guy? He's the pilot!"

She placed her chin on her hand and looked at the TV. "That actor kind of looks like you, Mitchell."

"Shh, it's Ben Bowder. Really cool dude."

"Who is the chick beating him up?"

"Claudia Black, she plays this space cop. They're lovers."

Cayce winced, "In real life?"

"No, on TV."

She placed her head down on the covers, "You realize that's not real, right? It's all fake."

"Yeah, yeah. Shh."

"Who would have guessed you would be such a…Fanboy."

He made a funny face, "What? I'm not a 'fanboy.'"

Shaking her head, "Yes, you are. I heard that SG-1 is the most sought after spot here, like it's some sort of club. And if you walk again; you get SG-1, cause you saved them a few years ago. That's a 'fanboy.'"

He flipped off the TV. His eyes locked with hers. For a moment he just stared at her, debating what to say.

Finally asking, "Why are you such a pessimist?"

She shrugged, "Being accused of treason and living on the street does that to you," she had to admit a truth, "it's the one thing I really like about you."

"What is?' he didn't follow.

"Despite living hand to mouth, being in a chair, you still have hope. You still have this fresh farm-boy attitude towards life. I get lemons and I just turn sour. You get lemons and you make lemonade. You can always see the positive, when I really can't. I think that I would be really, really depressed if it weren't for you."

He grinned, "Oh, so you like my 'can-do' attitude?"

She grinned, "When you're not annoying me."

"When I don't annoy you? When do I annoy you?"

"When you're acting naive. That stupid 'can-do' attitude of yours annoys me." As she spoke the worlds she certainly didn't seem annoyed, comfortable with his presence and even teasing to an extent.

He leaned closer, "I'll have to work on annoying you harder. You're mighty comfortable for being annoyed."

Coyly she replied, "What can I say? Your just comfy to be around. Like an old pair of slippers, kind of cozy."

His mouth dropped, "Slippers? Old slippers?"

"Comfy old slippers," she assured.

He wasn't sure what just happened but soon he found himself face to face with her. Looking into her bright gray eyes that seemed to dance before him. Before he knew it their lips met. A sweet kiss that grew slow and deep.

His heart thumped as the kiss continued. She wasn't what he ever envisioned for a girlfriend. His taste was more along the lines of Sam Carter, someone he thought about often. Sam Carter would make perfect sense to him. Not this tiny, mousy little girl with an attitude.

Yet, there he was in this passionate kiss with one of the most unique women he had ever meet. If he could ever be a fanboy and place himself into a sci-fi fantasy it was that moment. He was John Crichton and she was Aeryn Sun. He had to admit she did look a lot like the actress, even had the attitude.

However, Radio was no fictional character on a TV show. She was real, flesh and blood, and laying next to him on his bed, involved in the most passionate kiss he had felt in a very long time. Her scent captivated him. Breathing deep the sweet smell filled his nostrils. His senses came to life: taste, smell touch. Closing his eyes and savoring the sweet taste of the moment. Slowly he pulled away. Not saying a word he gazed deep into her eyes, then leaning towards her again in another steal of a kiss.

She found herself on her back, arms wrapped around his shoulders. Pulling him closer than before, with no doubt in her own mind as to what she was doing. Regret seeped in that he couldn't go further, for the paralyses would prevent them for engaging deeper.

**Hammond's Funeral**

The sun still shined on this dark day. Arlington National Cemetery hosted the event, as it took the interment of the casket holding the remains of the retired general.

His family seated on folding chair in receivership of the folded flag. General O'Neill and Colonels Carter, Frasier and Mitchell all in their dress blues. Dr. Daniel Jackson and Teal'c wearing dark suits for the occasion.

Due to the dishonorable discharge, Radio had to wear civilian clothes. Janet lent her a dress, dark blue in color to give some acknowledgement to her previous service.

As the service continued, Colonel Mitchell, perched in his wheelchair, couldn't believe he was at the funeral of a man who's death was seen remotely. He recalled Radio's words from the trance, that Hammond had crossed over and would return in ten years as a baby, reincarnation was something he never gave much thought too.

It resonated a stark difference to the Christian sermon being given for the old soldier. Preaching of residing in the house of god with Jesus Christ.

All while the fallen had a history of fighting false gods on other worlds. All while a psychic reported his passing, she never did say if Jesus was real or not. Never mentioned god…Just a crossing.

He looked over at her, standing with hands folded and head bowed in prayer. Wondering if she really believed the sermon or if she was just faking it not to offend the family. She never talked of her own faith nor explained her beliefs.

He couldn't but wonder if Hammond's spirit was looking down on them from Heaven. For that matter, if there even was a heaven? Crossing over? What did she mean by that? Crossing over? Crossing to what? To heaven? To another dimension? To the ascended or some bizarre version of such?

So many questions ran through the young pilot's mind. None of which he had an answer too. But wondered if Radio did. Perhaps, he could have her go into a trance and reveal the whole scheme of things. Exactly how he fit into the world and if his fait was written in stone.

As the service came to a close, the twenty-one gun salute gave a final farewell to George Hammond. With full military honors, the old soul was laid to rest.

Mitchell could only look onto the casket, "Goodbye General."

Sam nor Janet would shed a tear till after the service was concluded. The with solemn eyes they found comfort in the traditional embrace. Embracing Hammond's children and grandchildren in a bid to say goodbye.

Sam really could have used a hug from Jack O'Neill. However, he wouldn't yield, not even to old friends who faced death with him. He remained an officer regardless. Maybe, it was a self-defense mechanism? After losing his own son the man just never really opened up. He was no longer suicidal but the hurt was still deep within, and the loss of George would only make his pain bubble to the surface.

Mitchell rolled his chair to Radio, speaking quietly, "What do you think of all this?"

She shrugged, "A good man had died and passed over. He's in heaven now."

He cocked his head, "You believe in heaven?"

She nodded, "I believe in life after death."

Making sure George Hammond's family didn't hear their conversation, Mitchell lead Radio away from the site.

He scolded, "Ya know, some would say that's pretty naive of you. Gods have been proven false."

She looked up at the clear blue sky. The sun shining down on them. Warming her body and soul.

"True, but I guess that depends on your definition of god," she replied.

"When you read Hammond's death, you said he crossed over and would be reincarnated. Crossed over to what?"

She gave him a hint, "You know what your soul is made of?"

Stopping for a moment he found himself surrounded by head stones. It was an odd place to be having such a conversation. Yet, it was the perfect place.

"We don't have one, that's a myth," he stated.

Surprised she countered, "I had no idea you were such a pessimist. If the reading said Hammond's soul crossed over, than why do you doubt you have a soul?"

"If I can't see it, touch or hear it, then it's not real. Jackson taught me that."

She stood, surrounded by headstones, "Do to see, touched or hear an Asgard to believe they are real? What about the other races? You believe in them, right?"

"I know they are real, I read the reports. The government wouldn't lie to us. This is real, not fictional. Not some TV show or movie."

She muttered, "I'm beginning to wonder if my life is just as fictional?" looked up at the sky, "O thou Creator. Could you please give me bigger boobs and a good paying job? Or better yet, give me SG-1, so I can exist for the sole purpose of annoying the atheist."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

**Infirmary**

After weeks of grueling therapy, Dr. Fraise decided it was time to get Colonel Mitchell out of the wheelchair. She had set up a walker for him to use.

The colonel arrived expecting the to use the weight bearing bars. He was excited about therapy for he saw results. Something that he never thought he would enjoy. Feeling had return to his lower limbs once more, at first it was a tingling feeling, like a limb had fallen asleep. Over time the tingling subsided and actual feeling returned.

His bright blue eyes settled on the new piece of equipment. The dull gray walker certainly wasn't very pleasing to the eye. Plain and unappealing.

"I get a walker?" he asked.

Janet brought the walker to his chair, "Yes, you get to graduate to a walker. I don't think you really need to chair. But, you still need some help though."

He grimaced, "Ya know, Doc, in the drug store they have these really cool-looking walkers. They come in red, blue and green. Has a seat and a basket, plus wheels and a hand break. Can't I have one of those?"

"No," she cocked her head tin surprise, "Those walkers coast two hundred and fifty dollars. While 'old reliable' here, cost seventy-five. Which do you think the Air Force will pay for?"

He countered, "But the other are cooler. Plus, they have a hand break, like on a bike."

She rolled her eyes, "Yes, I've seen them. Those walkers are geared towards senior citizens. People who will need them a long time. You are getting better, this is temporary."

"But the colored ones are cooler."

"And why is that so important?"

Mitchell retorted, "Because it's cooler. I'm a pilot! Pilots drive cool cars. I used to drive a Fastback Mustang. Black with red interior. You've seen Sam's convertible! Heck, even General O'Neill drives a big dual wheel truck. Why can't I have a cool walker?"

"You can! Just need two hundred and fifty dollars to pay for it."

He rolled his eyes, "Seriously?"

"Seriously," she smiled sarcastically.

"That's just not cool."

"No one ever said a 'walker' was cool," she placed the contraption before him, "Come on! Times not standing still."

Grabbing the hand holds he hauled himself up from the chair, steadying himself with the walker. 

Janet stepped back, "Okay, let's see how far you can get."

"There's no seat to sit down on if I get tired." The pilot complained.

"No, there isn't. And you don't need one."

Before taking his first step with the new walker he couldn't help but ask, "Are you really this much of a power monger?"

Shifting her wait she couldn't help but agree, "According to General O'Neill…I'm worse."

The smile melted from Colonel Mitchell's face. Granted, he wanted Dr. Frasier for the best results but now wondered if perhaps that strategy was best. For, she seemed rather bossy. Constantly prodding him to move. To do the therapies prescribed. And follow Radio's therapy to the letter. He was glad that he was showing improvement but really wanted a break.

He forced himself to start to walk. Slowly he got into a rhythm with the new equipment. Though, he really would have liked a flashy red walker, he settled on the ugly gray standard issue, and couldn't wait till the day he could leave it behind.

After reaching the other side of the room he turned around. The chair sat empty where he parked it. The walker was a step up from the chair. And today was the first day he would do without it. Finally, he could leave the wheelchair behind. It was a bittersweet goodbye. He would miss the security of the contraption but certainly not miss the agony that accompanied.

Janet asked, "Is everything okay, Colonel?"

He nodded, "Guess, I really don't need a fancy walker after all. Don't think I need that chair either."

Janet couldn't help but agree, "I think your wheelchair days are over."

**Daniel's office**

Edna "Radio" Cayce agreed to do a reading for Sam and Daniel in order to find another ZPM. As well as give additional intelligence through what could only be described as "Remote Viewing."

Both scientist found it ironic as they read the report on the "Stargate Project" from decades ago where subjects attempted to gain information through a sixth sense.

A renewed area of research for the government. A new "Stargate Program" with in the current "Stargate Program." Instead of spying on Soviet Russia it would be used to gain intel off world.

Radio sat back in the large chair. She was attempting to go into the trance in a seating position, something she wasn't sure she could.

Eagerly, Sam and Daniel flanked her, each sitting on a folding chair they got from supply. Each holding a pen and paper plus attending to their own voice recorders.

"Any extra batteries, Sam?" Daniel wondered, "My recorder is dead."

She shook her head, "Nope, sorry."

Cayce's voice became monotone once more, "I have the ZPM."

Excited Sam leaned closer, "Do you see where it is?"

"Yes, the closest ZPM to earth is on destination P3X 4456."

"We've been there before," Sam stated, "where about?"

"South of gate in old ruins. Hidden behind false wall. Wall with sun."

"The glyph of the sun," Daniel took note. "We've been there. How do we find the entrance?"

"Break seal of sun. Directly behind seal. Wall not made of stone."

Entranced himself, Daniel couldn't help but ask, "What do we use to break the seal?"

"A hammer will do," she replied.

He looked up from his pad and blinked. "A hammer? Plain old, regular hammer? Why do I feel stupid for some reason?"

Her voice replied, "I cannot read your emotions."

Sam wiggled in her chair as she next question. "Are there more ZPMs to be found?"

"There are six more in close proximity to earth."

"Six more?" her eyes lit up in surprise. "Never would have guessed that many."

Daniel had another question, "Can you see Atlantis?"

"The city or the cotenant?"

"Um…" he looked at Sam. "There's more than one?"

Cayce answered the question, "Yes. There are two. A city and a land mass."

"The city first," he told her.

"I see the city. It is inhabited by Earth colony."

"Are they safe?" Sam wondered.

"They are safe for the moment. Have awakened Wraith and are being hunted."

"How can we help them?" Daniel wondered.

"Supply power module," she stated.

"We will do that," he assured.

Jack had been watching from the doorway. He quietly approached without detection. He spoke loud but softly. "What are the lotto numbers?"

"For which drawing?"

His friends both turned to him in disapproval.

Jack grinned, "Tonight's in Colorado."

"The numbers are 5, 7, 9, 14, 18, 42."

"Jack!" Daniel scolded. "Do you really think we should be using this gift for personal gain?"

He shrugged, "You two are. You write that down, Carter?"

"No, Sir. I did not and I will not."

"You disobeying a direct order?"

She shot back, "Yes, Sir. I am. We cannot use this for personal gain and neither Daniel or myself are doing so. We are trying to help Atlantis and find more ZPM's, Sir." She was angry for being mocked. Always being such a good officer and never getting out of line.

"Relax, Carter. I was kidding." He then muttered under his breath, "5, 7, 14...what were the others?"

Radio came too from the trance, breathing in deep she looked at her companions, "Did you get the ZPM site?"

"Yes, we did," Sam assured her.

Jack called out, "You also gave us the lotto numbers too."

She blinked, "Really? What are they?"

Jack sarcastically motioned a hand towards her, "See!"

"What?"

He squealed on his friends, "They told me it was unethical to use your trance thing to get the numbers and wouldn't write them down."

She looked at the pair, "What the hell? I gave you the numbers and you didn't write them down? They on tape?" She sounded eager to get the elusive numbers.

"No," Daniel explained, "my recorder is dead and Sam didn't turn hers on."

Jack tried to recall them, "They were 5, 7, 18, 14...And two more."

"What were the other two? Radio wondered.

Sam shook her head, "It doesn't matter. You are not abusing your gift. You said so, yourself."

"Screw that," she muttered, "I could have won the lotto."

Daniel folded his arms, "We will not allow this remote viewing program to be abused, especially by Jack."

"Um…" he reached for an excuse, "I was just testing her." The words rang hollow has his mind tried to remember the numbers.

"I could have been rich," Radio complained.

"I could have been rich too," Jack echoed. "Daniel and his 'moral high ground' stuck once again."

Radio huffed, "Like he cares; he already rich."

Daniel lifted and eyebrow, "Excuse me? I'm not rich…Not within the least."

Jack had to agree, "Yeah, but he's pretty cheap."

"I am not!"

"Are too," Jack teased him, rocking on his heels.

She looked at the general, "You're not like most officers, huh?"

He made a confession, "Spent my entire life 'sticking it to the man.' Now, suddenly…I am 'the man.' Kind of weird."

"Can say that again," Daniel agreed.

**Jack's Office**

Six weeks had passed since Cayce had done the initial reading. Lt. Colonel Cameron Mitchell stood in full dress blue before Jack O'Neill's desk. His walker long gone as with the wheelchair. He proudly stated, "Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell, reporting for duty, sir."

Jack motioned with his hand, "You didn't need to get dressed up."

Mitchell replied, "I thought it would be fitting, sir. Reporting officially and all."

Jack gave a nod as he understood the drive. It wasn't about reporting for duty but about accomplishment. And in a short time the colonel accomplished what many said he would never.

However, Cameron Mitchell had much to be proud of. Not just his own physical accomplishment but also getting Edna "Radio" Cayce off the street. She was now working in the SGC as an remote viewer. A new type of intelligence program that could only really fit in the Stargate program.

Sam never was able to buffer Cayce from the gate. The radio waves given off were made more tolerable by distance. As long as she didn't go near the gate room, radio would be fine.

Mitchell and Cayce's relationship slowly bloomed for all to see. They sounded like an old married couple in regards to opposing opinions on subjects. But, it really didn't matter what the opinion on a subject was for they both knew real need.

Jack cocked his head to the side, "So, how you and Carter gonna co-command?"

He gleefully replied, "I'm sure we can work it out. SG-1 is two officer and two civilians."

"So, who is in charge?"

"Well, um…"

Jack gave him a hint. "Since Carter has more experience, I think that would make her CO."

"Right sir." Mitchell's dream of commanding SG-1 was put to rest.

The General added, "Radio will act as an advisor when needed." It was odd for the man to use nicknames for personnel. But Cayce seemed to have gained a certain level of respect that most in her position would not.

"That's fine by me, sir. She'll be happy to find that out."

Jack muttered, "She would be happy if Carter and Daniel would let us get the lotto numbers."

"Excuse me, sir? I didn't quit catch that."

Jack played dumb. Figuring he didn't want to take a chance in exposing his future plan to win the lotto. Not for the money but more as a test. To see if it can be done. And to rub a really big check in Daniel's nose.

"Nothing, Dismissed."

"Thank you, Sir." Mitchell gave a salute and turned on his heels. Crisp in his steps and walked back out the office. Bubbling with pride for his regained ability to walk. With absolute assurance he would never take such a basic part of daily life for granted.

Jack watched him leave. The crisp movements from the service manuals ran through his mind. Going back to his own youth when he was marching in formation. Dreading the endless drills and practicing to move in snappish, smooth movements. Suddenly realizing what a joy it must be to perform such awkward movements again after such a long battle.

A smile crept across his lips, "Welcome aboard, Mitchell. It's good to have you."

The End


End file.
